


Counterpoint

by earth_dragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:57:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earth_dragon/pseuds/earth_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This, and it's short sequel, were the very first HP fics I ever did. Just small, fluffy pieces.

Your scar fascinates me.

I’ve never told you that, but it does. I’m fascinated by the way it zigs and zags; the way the skin of the scar is slightly raised. I’m equally fascinated by the smooth skin surrounding the scar.

I covet that skin, but I’ve not told you that either.

I imagine that skin would slide sweat-slick and wonderful under my fingertips. I imagine you would moan if I were to press my lips, my tongue to your scar, to your skin.

Your scar fascinates me but it scares me too, and that’s why I’ve never told you.

Maybe I should ask you instead.

“Hey Ron?”

Ron paused, half bent to pick up his clean shirt, which he had intended to put on but had dropped. “Huh?”

Harry lifted his hand and glided his fingers down the textured, meandering path that curved just behind the dip of Ron’s right shoulder blade. He was right: it did feel wonderful. “Where did this scar on your shoulder come from?”


	2. Punctuation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time (and Ron) can be a storyteller.

“Where did this scar on your shoulder come from?” Harry asked.

“Oh, that?” Ron turned his head to look at him. “I thought I told you about that. When I was nine Fred convinced me to climb up on top of the garden shed for a dare, but the roof was old and it fell through with me and I landed on top on Mum’s pruning shears.” Ron winced at the memory.

Harry also winced in sympathy but then shook his head. “No, not that one — this one.” He gently ran his fingers over the small, discolored indent just on top of Ron’s left shoulder.

Ron blushed and dropped his eyes demurely; he snuggled his cheek into the pillow. “You really don’t know?” he asked quietly.

Again Harry shook his head.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry’s eyes went wide.

Ron gave a lazy, loving smile and rubbed his nose up against Harry’s own. “You should really consider cutting your nails more often.”


End file.
